


we turn nights into memories

by jia_yang



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 10:47:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18776725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jia_yang/pseuds/jia_yang
Summary: there are better and funner things to do with our mouths than to talk about our feelings.





	we turn nights into memories

**Author's Note:**

> it's the summer of 2019, and we're just kids in love.  
> title based off a lyric from bazzi's "paradise" (check it out bc it totally embodies rich & eds in this fic)  
> i hope you guys have listened to mo bamba lmao anyway pls enjoy!

It’s one of those pitch black summer nights, but the Denbrough house is aglow. Light pours out from behind the curtains and music hums in the air, and if you stand outside the building you can faintly hear the sound of dozens of high schoolers singing along to Mo Bamba in Bill’s living room.

“I just, I just think it’d be too predictable for Jon Snow to end up on the Iron Throne,” Eddie protests in the back corner of the living room, as he, Richie, Bev, and Mike argue about their predictions for season eight of _Game of Thrones._

“That is true. Plus, Dany’s gonna give him a run for his money,” Mike agrees, trying for the third time to take Eddie’s red plastic cup away from him, and holding the cup up high out of Eddie’s reach.

“Dany has dragons!” Bev yells. “She’s my idol, she has to be queen by the end. But I could see her and Jon ruling together, Eddie.” Bev turns for an opinion from Eddie, who is jumping into the air to snatch his cup back from Mike. All five feet and four inches of him stubbornly dart away from Mike before taking another sip of his drink. He gags, and silently thinks Mike’s probably right that Eddie’s done with drinks for the night.

“Thanks for the stellar input, Eds!” Richie laughs. Eddie swats at him before Richie continues, “I for one cannot wait for the Mountain and the Hound to finally duel it out. It’s gonna be fucking bananas. Whaddya think?”

Eddie resentfully agrees, but will be the last to vocally admit it. “Whatever. I dunno, Rich.”

“Of course you don’t care, Eddie.” Richie’s addressing Eddie but is talking to Bev and Mike, which Eddie knows, a half a second too late, means that Richie’s setting up a joke at Eddie’s expense. “We all know you only watch the show to see the characters FUCK!”

On the last word, Richie’s leaned in towards Eddie, and screams the expletive into Eddie’s ear, startling Eddie into a yelp.

“SHIT!” Everyone dancing in the middle of Bill’s living room has stopped to sing along to their favorite part of Mo Bamba.

“BITCH!” Richie, Bev, and Mike have chimed in, screaming along to the lyrics with everyone else. Eddie shoves lightly at Richie. Richie, by way of apology, slings an arm around Eddie’s shoulders and forces him to sway with the song, and a smile Eddie doesn’t control spreads across his face.

At the front of the room Stan has boldly decided to challenge a junior to a dance-off, and with Bev and Mike’s attention turned away, Eddie wraps an arm around Richie’s waist. Low, subtle. No one’s looking at them, so there’s no chance anyone else will realize that Richie and Eddie are--

Eddie’s mind blanks. He doesn’t know the word for what he and Richie are.

He’s well aware of the alcohol buzzing in his system, affecting his judgment, fucking around with his decision making. Richie is just his friend, he knows. There’s something unspoken in between, maybe. Sure. But what is there to say?

In spite of himself, Eddie reaches up, with his free hand, to interlock his fingers with the hand Richie’s thrown around Eddie’s shoulders. The music blaring grows quiet in Eddie’s mind and his heartbeat pounds in his ears as Richie pulls Eddie in tighter, and then Eddie’s heart totally stops. Richie’s leaned down, at an angle that’s awkward as hell, and pressed a kiss against the crown of Eddie’s head. A fraction of a moment passes and it’s over.

Eddie’s past tipsy, past buzzed. He’s drunk. Just drunk enough to not be able to process things very fast. In what feels like half a second, Richie’s unravelled himself from Eddie’s grasp, turns to Eddie, says something loud but still inaudible, turns away, and walks out of the room. It’s a few seconds before Eddie registers the last word that came out of Richie’s lips: “bathroom.”

Eddie looks around. Not totally clear on what his friend just said, not totally clear if he’s reading the moment right, not totally clear if anyone else is seeing this. He laughs to himself, staying in his place, shaking his head. And then starts after his best friend.

In the darkened hallway outside Bill’s bathroom, Eddie stares at the light bleeding out from under the door. Barely a second after Eddie knocks on the door, Richie throws it open with a breathless energy, glasses in hand. In the fluorescent lighting of the bathroom Eddie can see Richie’s eyes are bloodshot, smells his deodorant and a whiff of the weed Richie, Bev, and Ben had smoked before the party. Eddie watches water drip off a springed coil of Richie’s curly bangs as Richie quickly shoves his glasses back on his face, and realizes slowly that Richie’s just splashed his face with water. He swallows a giggle at the thought of Richie frantically sobering up in the bathroom before Eddie came in.

“Hey,” Eddie says, feeling kind of dumb. Not knowing what to say, not totally sure where to put his hands. He’s not sure if the pounding in his ears is the music playing in Bill’s living room, or his heart drunkenly racing. Suddenly irrationally nervous, he grabs a hand towel off the rack he knows is behind him (he knows the Denbrough house better than he knows the back of his hand) and steps forward, standing on his tiptoes so he can wipe Richie’s face.

It’s almost like Eddie’s hands drift up on their own, and he watches them move to the sides of Richie’s face so he can lightly take his glasses off. When they slip off his nose, Eddie carefully folds them up and places them on the countertop next to the sink. As his attention moves back to Richie, his balance falters for a moment and he steps closer, catching himself inches under Richie’s nose. Richie, breathless, hasn’t moved a muscle.

Still without a word, Eddie takes the cloth to Richie’s forehead to dry his face, carefully avoiding the gaze of Richie’s eyes, huge even without his glasses, peering at Eddie. At the contact of Eddie’s fingers against his skin, Richie exhales. It’s barely audible, hardly noticeable. Eddie notices.

Richie watches Eddie’s gaze wash over his face as he dries it, running just under the hair that hangs over his eyes before dropping down, tracing his jawline, as Eddie memorizes details he already knows by heart (he knows Richie better than he knows himself). Then he accidentally meets Richie’s eyes, and it’s like he’s fallen into quicksand. His lips part involuntarily, and he lets out a small and embarrassingly high-pitched hiccup.

Richie’s face twists into a shit-eating grin, and he leans back, jaw open, eyes crinkled in a voiceless laugh. Annoyed, Eddie throws the towel at Richie, and it hits Richie in the chest before collapsing uselessly to the ground. Eddie can almost feel the jokes and the insults bubbling up in Richie’s chest. A fleeting, desperate thought hits him: _God, Richie, don’t say something and ruin this moment._

No further coherent or intelligent thoughts cross Eddie’s mind before he can stop himself from grabbing Richie’s collar, pulling his best friend down, and crashing their lips together.

It’s hard and awkward and Eddie’s genuinely worried he might have bruised his face by essentially headbutting Richie. But the anxiety of the moment when Richie is frozen evaporates instantly, when Richie’s lips soften, line up with Eddie’s, and part, to allow a breath of quiet exaltation to pass out of Richie’s mouth and into Eddie’s lungs. Engulfed in the warmth of the moment, Eddie feels Richie’s arms slip around his waist, pulling him chest to chest, nearly lifting him off the ground as Richie presses deep into the kiss.

When they finally part to look each other in the eye, Eddie’s breath comes in quiet gasps. It’s his turn to be frozen, stunned.

Richie takes his hands, puts them on either side of Eddie’s face. It looks like he’s about to say something but amazingly no words come, and after a long silent pause he whispers, “I don’t know what to say.”

Eddie’s face splits into a smile that’s so wide he can barely control it enough to kiss Richie again. He pulls Richie close again and murmurs into his mouth before catching his lips again with his.

“So don’t say anything.”

**Author's Note:**

> loosely based off personal experience :)  
> hope y'all enjoyed my first reddie fic, pls leave a comment if u liked it/disliked it/want to freak out with me about the new trailer!!


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